


12 Days of Ichabbie Christmas

by NerdyGrlWonder



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babies, Bathroom Sex, Beach Sex, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Confessions, Cooking, Desire, Dick in a Box, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Hallucinations, Holidays, Ice Skating, Imagination, Kissing, Lingerie, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Mistletoe, Public Nudity, Quickies, Reunions, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Singing, Snow, Teasing, beach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyGrlWonder/pseuds/NerdyGrlWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tumblr prompted fics to coincide with the holiday season.</p><p>Check out Chapter 13 Here!<br/><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5425814/chapters/13529350">Chapter 13:Take A Hint</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Woe the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> This was a way for me to (hopefully) get my SH fic writing mojo back and for me to stop hating my own writing. I dunno if it's working, but I hope you enjoy each piece anyway!

Ichabod stood back and admired his handy work. No matter what he did, he was unable to get the tree to stand straight in its base. Still, the lean was nearly imperceptible beneath all of the trimmings he’d placed on and around it. Abbie wouldn’t have had the time or energy to help him in the decoration process, let alone pick out and then cut down a fresh tree, but Miss Jenny volunteered to do all of the Thanksgiving cooking as long as he and Abbie placed host.

At the rate things had been going - with Abbie’s job at the F.B.I, trying to decipher what game Pandora was playing as fear spread through Sleepy Hollow seemingly unchecked - Crane had been worried they wouldn’t get the chance to enjoy a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner at all. That was something that simply would not do.  And they all deserved to enjoy their holiday season together - as a family. _Family_. That’s what they were to him. Miss Jenny was like the sister he never had; Master Corbin was a brother-in-arms; and then, there was Abbie. Abbie was… everything.

Abbie was his partner, his friend, his confidant. Abbie was his voice of reason and the balm to the aches and pains of his soul. She was truth and beauty, honesty and loyalty. Abbie was his soulmate; she was the woman he loved and held most dear in this or any other lifetime. If only he held bravery in as high a regard as he did her, he would have confessed his feelings for her long ago.

“Crane? You home? I brought us some Chinese…”

Abbie’s voice stopped mid-sentence as she took in the state of her small living room. Boxes sat in various states of fullness on the floor and couch. Silver and red garland had been hung from the ceiling in perfect recurring loops. A tree as tall as Ichabod himself stood proudly near the mantle, decorated from top to bottom and a single sprig of mistletoe hung above her head in the doorway.

Ichabod could see warring emotions flitting across her lovely features. He should have cleaned up the boxes as he went along. He should have considered that maybe; Abbie didn’t want her home decorated for Christmas before Thanksgiving had even arrived. He should have asked her first. There were so many things he should have done.

He moved towards her, ready to explain himself and his motivation behind the decorations. They were all for her; everything he did was always for her. Before he could get the words out, Abbie pulled him into stand with her beneath the mistletoe and placed a soft kiss on his lips then hugged him tight, burying her head against his chest. Too stunned to say anything, he wrapped his arms around her and relished how right it felt to hold her just like that.

“Thank you, Crane.”

****

Ichabod remembered that moment and how his soul had soared at the feel of her lips on his. Though chaste and sweet, the skin-to-skin contact made his blood feel like it was on fire and his heart beat triple time. Now, his heart wanted nothing more to cease beating. He had, in that moment, the chance to tell her he loved her. Instead, he’d merely smiled and mumbled how it was nothing. Oh how he wished he had said the words to her before he lost her forever.

Tears fell from his eyes as freely as the steadily falling snow, forming a thin layer of ice on the leaves of the red poinsettia Jenny and Joe had left for Abbie. Placing a fresh sprig of mistletoe on her headstone, Ichabod leaned over and kissed her name. It was as cold and lifeless as was his current existence.

They’d been unable to bring her back from the underworld. They had failed her. _He_ had failed her. Twelve months later and he was still reeling from it. As high as his heart had soared that day she kissed him, it fell like a boulder sinking into the deep trenches of his soul when he learned she would never come back. Now, it beat in an erratically and dejected manor, as if it too were wishing that it would cease. Only then, once united with Abbie in death, would his heart remember what it felt like to beat anew.

 


	2. Caroling Imaginings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew Christmas caroling could be so hot?

 

This had been a terrible idea. In fact, this had been one of the worst ideas that he or anyone else he knew had had since he’d awoken in the 21st Century. He was surely a doomed man. Ichabod would have to remember to give Master Corbin the tongue lashing of a lifetime for ever suggesting to bring the Lieutenant along with him to the reenactment groups Christmas caroling night. He’d make sure Joe Corbin would forever regret the suggestion.

 

He’d managed to only stutter a little when he saw Abbie walk down the street to meet him in full Dickensian garb. She looked positively breathtaking in her tight-fitting velvet corset in a stunning emerald green; matching skirts with gold leafing woven throughout and her hair drawn up away from her face in full ringlet curls completed the vision that had appeared before him. He attributed the rapidity of her breathing to being unused to the confines of the costume.

 

_A situation I would most enjoy remedying by removing it._

 

Yes. It was official. He was a doomed man. From the moment he’d met Abbie, he found her beautiful but would never express such sentiment aloud as he was still a married man. Now however, free of the treacherous relationship he had been bound to, Ichabod could barely contain his feelings or desire for his fellow Witness. He might as well be a prepubescent youth again the way his cock strained mightily against his trousers as he sang about the baby Jesus all the while thinking of what the bare skin beneath Abbie’s dress tasted like.

 

_I am not only doomed; I am damned._

****

Abbie had seen this Crane before. She’d gotten glimpses of him during some of their battles with evil, but she’d seen him fully back in his time. This was Captain Crane; complete with impeccable period dress - even if it wasn’t century compliant. This Ichabod Crane made her blood run like molten lava. Abbie very much liked _this_ Crane.

 

Jenny had pushed her to join Ichabod for his caroling outing. She said that they needed to strengthen and deepen their bond in a way they hadn’t before. Abbie wasn’t sure what Jenny meant by that. She’d have to make sure to remind her sister to stay the hell out of her personal life. Over the course of their time as Witnesses, they’d be pulled apart and pushed together. They’d been tested and tried. Their bond was rock solid. Though at that very moment, the only rock solid thing she wanted to try and deepen was the feeling of Crane buried inside of her.

 

_What the hell, Mills? Get it together!_

Ichabod stood with his back straight and his disposition composed. His baritone slithered its way into her ears and made her heart race. It was bad enough she could barely breathe in that damn corset, but the sight and sound of him didn’t help the matter either. She tried desperately not to look at him straight on but out of the corner of her eyes. She faltered as she sang about Christ the Savior being born when she caught a glance at the sizable bulge that seemed to still be growing in his pants.

****

When caroling had finished, Abbie pulled Ichabod aside into one of the smaller rooms off of the historical society’s main floor. Closing the door behind her as she whipped him into the room, Abbie leaned against it heavily, trying to catch her breath.

 

“Lieutenant, are you quite alright?”

 

“I’ll be fine as soon as you help me out of this dress. Then I think we can both have ourselves a Merry Little Christmas.”

 

It took Ichabod less than three strides and a few tugs before he had Abbie out of her costume. And they most certainly did have themselves a Merry little Christmas night - revenge against both Jenny and Joe entirely forgotten.

 


	3. Confessions Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cut the shit, Crane.” Jenny tightened her grip on his hand making it harder for him to pull away from her. “Just admit it! Admit that you love my sister. Admit that you’re in love with her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crankybitchcrane prompt: NEVER EVER STOP WRITING OR I WILL FIND YOU!!!!!!! Okay, as far as a prompt: how about Jenny and Joe prodding Crane to confess his feelings about Abbie after she goes into the tree, especially when Crane sees Joenny all affectionate and handsy with each other? :)
> 
> I... I don't know where all of this angst is coming from. I swear I'm not trying to make ya'll feel things. It just keeps happening! But if you are feeling things, good! ;-)

Weeks. They had been pouring over Washington’s Bible, Grace Dixon’s journal, apocryphal texts, ancient manuscripts and forgotten lore for weeks - all to find and save Abbie. He hadn’t gone back to her home -  _their home_  - he couldn’t; not without her. He lived in the Archives now, if you could call what he was doing living.

Every day, Jenny and Joe would come. They’d bring him food and force him to eat but there was no taste anymore. There was no point in eating, no point in doing much of anything other than finding a way to free her. He could feel the way that Jenny and Joe looked at him when they thought he wasn’t watching. They looked at him with a mixture of pity and fear. He watched them too, though he doubted they noticed.

He saw the way that Jenny leaned into Joe whenever she fretted over whether or not Abbie had survived. He noticed the small and tender kisses Joe would place on her temple as he pulled her in close. He’d even seen them in a passionate embrace as he went to enter his base of operations but was wise and courteous enough to turn silently on his heels and leave the Archives for a time. Ichabod was glad that Joe had taken his advice and admitted his feelings to Jenny. He was truly happy for them. He was just also terribly bitter and broken that he couldn’t enjoy the same affections with his Lieutenant.

“Let’s call it a night fellas.” Jenny stretched and closed the voluminous edition of ancient Norse runes and their meanings as she stood to put it away. They’d been at it for seven hours straight at least. She was tired; she figured Joe was as well. Mostly though, she wanted to give Crane a break. He’d been going non-stop; she was worried that he would crash before they made any actual headway.

“Might I remind you Miss Jenny, as Benjamin Franklin once said to me: “You may delay, but time will not.”” He rose up out of his chair, his finger hoisted up in true Ichabod fashion. “The longer we leave your sister in the underworld, the less likely that we will be able to bring her back.”

“Not for nothing Crane,” Joe shrugged his shoulders into his coat as he walked over to Ichabod, “and don’t take this the wrong way, but how do we know that’s even where she is? How do we know she’s even still…”

“Are you questioning whether the Lieutenant still lives? After all you know of her and her fire - her fight, you doubt her resilience?”

Joe raised his hands in surrender, backing away from the simmering rage he could feel emitting from his friend. He felt Jenny’s hand press gently in the middle of his back as she slid next to him in support. With her free hand, she grabbed Ichabod’s still raised hand and looked him deep in the eye.

“We don’t doubt that Abbie can do anything. We also don’t doubt that it’s your love for her that will not only save her, but save you too.”

Those words silenced him instantly. Had he been so obvious with his affections for his partner?

“I don’t need saving.  _She does_. And of course I care, very deeply for your sister, however…”

“Cut the shit, Crane.” Jenny tightened her grip on his hand making it harder for him to pull away from her. “Just admit it! Admit that you love my sister. Admit that you’re in love with her.”

“I can’t…” Ichabod’s response was a soft and broken whisper.

“Why not man? You told me to ‘talk to Jenny’. I did and look what came of it.” Joe was exasperated. He knew Crane loved Abbie. Hell, anyone with a brain and eyeballs could tell he loved her. He just didn’t understand why Crane wouldn’t admit it to himself. “Why can’t you just say it out loud?”

“Because if I do, if I admit that I am completely in love with her and have been from nearly the very moment we met, than I not only admit to being a cad and a scoundrel, I admit that this is entirely my fault!”

Ichabod’s booming baritone bounced off of the tomes that lined the shelves of the archives. He pulled free of Jenny’s grip and turned his back to them so that they wouldn’t see the raw pain that the truth made him feel.

“Had I simply been honest and plain with her, all of this could have been avoided. Abbie would be here with us now instead of trapped in some hell that I shudder to even imagine.”

Jenny ignored Ichabod’s grief and stood angrily in front of him.

“First of all, Abbie didn’t go into that damned tree because of or for you. She did it because she thought she owed me something when she didn’t because she’s a stubborn pain in my ass!” Jenny jabbed her finger into Crane’s chest repeatedly as she allowed her tears to fall as openly as his. “Me asking her not to do it didn’t stop her. You begging her not to do it didn’t stop her. Do you really think telling her you loved her would have changed her decision?”

Ichabod looked into Jenny’s eyes. They were so much like her sisters. They shared the same fire and intensity; a trait he’d come to admire in both Mills sisters. She was right, of course. He was being selfish and thick-minded because of his own pain. Nothing anyone said or did would have stopped Grace Abigail Mills once she set her mind to something.

“You should have told her you loved her a long time ago Crane, but not because it would have stopped her from sacrificing herself. She would have done that anyway. You should have told her because she would have gone into that tree knowing how you felt - knowing the depths of your devotion to her. She deserved at least that.”

Jenny and Ichabod both broke down then, holding onto each other as if the other were Abbie. Ichabod cried shamelessly into Jenny’s hair. They were tears of grief - of course - but they were also tears of relief and hope. Saying the words out loud had lifted a tremendous weight off of his shoulders and with that burden lifted, he no longer felt like the way to finding Abbie was shut to him. If anything, confessing his feelings made his path ever clearer.

“You are right, Miss Jenny. She deserved and still deserves exactly that.” They broke apart, both smiling at feeling a sense of calm and resolution wash over them. “Between her fighter spirit and our love for her, we will bring her back to us.”

“Does this mean that you’ll finally tell her how you feel once we have her back?” Joe had given them their moment together but had joined them now, giving Ichabod a brotherly punch on the shoulder.

“Indeed, Master Corbin. I will not only tell her the depths of my love for her; I will spend the rest of my waking days showing her and proving to her how loved she is.”


	4. Thawing Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod gave Abbie that damnable smirk she’d grown to love and hate as he moved forward, wrapping her in his arms and pushing her onto the ice with his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: 'Okay, I think I'm doing this right-- Here's my ask for an ice skating story.'

Abbie’s breath came out in small clouds as she trudged through the calf-high snow with her skates slung over her left shoulder. She may have vehemently hated driving in it, but she loved the snow. There was something pure and warm about the sparkling ice crystals. She’d been waiting for a streak of cold weather to hit so she could head to her secret spot; a secret spot that she was going to share for the first time ever - with Crane. **  
**

“How you holding up over there? Not getting nervous about going ice skating for the first time are you?” Abbie smiled and gave Ichabod a gentle shove in the arm as they made their way through thick tree cover.

“I assure you Lieutenant, I shall endure.” Ichabod gave her a side smirk as he raised a snow-laden pine bough so that she may walk beneath it.

“If you get too cold, just let me know and we can head back to the car.”

“I survived the Battle at Young’s house in the middle of a February blizzard with nothing more than my long coat and a musket. This is nothing compared to that.”

Abbie laughed and came to a stop, placing her arm out to still Crane. She felt him tense beneath her gloved hand. She smiled at him reassuringly so that he didn’t think her stopping him was due to something lurking in the distance. They had stopped at a clearing; a circle of pine trees blocked the sounds of snow plows in the distance. All was silent. Not even a bird chirped. The ground before them shimmered softly in the overcast winter light and Abbie let out a gentle sigh.

“We’re here!”

Abbie sat on the fallen tree next to her and began the process of getting into her skates and lacing them up. Ichabod sat next to her and followed suit, watching her out of the corner of his eye with a subtle smirk. She leaned over and enthusiastically showed him how to tighten and tie his laces. Once she was sure that had the hang of it, she took two big steps away from the log and then glided over the snow dusted ice.

Ichabod sat and watched Abbie in wonder. A light snow had begun to fall and it landed like gems in her hair and on her lashes. He’d seen her smile. He’d seen her laugh before, but it wasn’t until this very moment that he’d ever seen  _this_ Abbie. This Abbie was the definition of carefree. He’d completely forgotten his laces, content to simply watch her body move in serpentine motion across the small space; a smile permanently plastered on her features.

Abbie saw him watching, skates still undone and moved back over to him. Without a word, she knelt at the edge of the ice and quickly finished tying them for him. As she rose, she extended both of her hands and helped him up.

“The key is to lean into your movements. If you lean back, you’ll wind up flat on your ass. Lean  _into_  the direction you’re pushing off from.” She began to skate backwards, with the intention of holding onto him as he got his skating legs. She was going to guide him. She’d never considered that Ichabod Crane - man out of time and incomprehensibly large know-it-all - already knew how to skate.

“King James II brought ice skating to England as a sport after he returned from exile. It was an entertaining way to pass the time in my youth.”

Ichabod gave Abbie that damnable smirk she’d grown to love and hate as he moved forward, wrapping her in his arms and pushing her onto the ice with his body. Under normal circumstances, he’d never dream of invading the Lieutenant’s personal space in such an intimate manner. Under normal circumstances, he would have removed his hands from her waist the moment it was practical. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have leaned forward as they moved in unison and pressed his lips gently against hers. But this was anything but normal. He was under the deepest of spells, cast by the beauty and grace of the woman in his arms.

Abbie tensed at first. She wasn’t used to Crane being this close to invading her space. Then she realized she had no reason to be uncomfortable. This was Crane -  _her Crane_. She trusted him implicitly. Not only that, but she’d shared this with him - this quiet and sacred spot from her past. She hadn’t told anyone or brought anyone here before. Not even Jenny. This was her place. Except now, with his arms around her waist, their bodies pressed against one another, moving in perfect harmony, and his lips pressing against hers - it was no longer simply her place.  _It was theirs_.

She had to laugh to herself as she contemplated it all. They had always been a pair, a unit, a team. People had implied and inferred things about their relationship for years now. She wasn’t sure what changed. She didn’t know what it was about that moment that made everything click into place, but it didn’t really matter. They spent the next hour skating, touching, and kissing in a spot that was sacred just to them.


	5. Dinner and Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scents of figs baking in their pudding, roasted sirloin with oyster sauce, zesty greens and candied yams mingled in the air, filling the house with the smells and feeling of the holidays.

They worked side-by-side in companionable silence as the sounds of Christmas songs - smooth jazz style - came through the speakers of the iPod dock. He chopped, she kneaded. She seasoned, he baked. The counters were littered with vegetable shavings, shopping bags filled with meat trimmings, discarded paper towels and at least a dozen opened seasoning containers.

 

They’d started shortly after noon. Abbie pulled out her favorite Christmas recipes and Ichabod shared his favorite traditional ideas with her. After a brief rundown of what each of them couldn’t live without and what they’d be willing to try, the each set about making their favorite dishes for Christmas dinner. This wasn’t going to be some over-the-top, tons of friends and family event. This Christmas was going to be just for them.

 

The scents of figs baking in their pudding, roasted sirloin with oyster sauce, zesty greens and candied yams mingled in the air, filling the house with the smells and feeling of the holidays. They iced cutouts together, each focused on producing the perfect cookie. Occasionally, Ichabod’s hand would graze her lower back or Abbie’s hips would rub up against his. Still, they said nothing. They didn’t have to. They conveyed everything they needed to with a smile, a glance or by touch.

 

It was dusk when the entire meal was finally arranged in decorative holiday dishes and placed with care on the dining room table. Abbie heaped mound of yams and greens on both her plate and Crane’s while he sliced the sirloin for them both. When they sat to eat, it was next to each other - still not a word spoken between the two - their legs leaning against the other’s beneath the table.

 

Ichabod cleared the table and nodded toward the living room. Abbie poured them both a glass of wine and sat in front of the low fire waiting for the dessert that was to come. When he returned to her side, Ichabod had a single plate with one cookie and one fork on it. As Abbie ws about to finally break the hours long silence that had stretched on between them, Ichabod spooned warm  pudding into her slightly open mouth.

 

The treat was warm and sweet and he’d gotten as much in her mouth as around it. She didn’t get a chance to lick her lips clean before he leaned in and took care of it himself. His tongue brushed against her lips and then slid between them slowly, kissing away any and all trace of the dessert. When he pulled away, Ichabod gazed deeply into Abbie’s brown eyes, a hint of mirth in his ice blue ones.

 

“Merry Christmas, Lieutenant.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Crane.”

 

 


	6. Verum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, Ichabod didn’t offer platitudes of false hope. He simply pulled her closer to him, kissed the top of her head and leaned his chin against it. In this moment, there was peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theoriginalimpossiblesoufflegirl prompt: ichabbie in a snowstorm, of course

Abbie curled into a ball and leaned her head back against the cave wall. She tried breathing deeply to settle her nerves but the chattering of her teeth and the violent way her body shook from the cold made that near impossible. Just thinking in this cold was a chore. If she could just keep herself warm enough until this spontaneous blizzard wore itself out, she’d be able to make it home without becoming a Witness popsicle.

It was by the grace of God that they’d even found this little hidey hole. They had barely gone a half a mile away from the main road into the preserve when the wind whipped up out of nowhere. Gone was the light flurry that had nagged Sleepy Hollow off and on all day. It was replaced by a ferocious storm that seemed hell-bent on burying everything - and everyone apparently - in it’s path.

The cave itself wasn’t overly deep but it curved in enough that a small alcove blocked virtually all of the wind from outside though ambient light still made it in, casting an unearthly spell on the space. It still didn’t do much for the cold however. Ichabod sat down next to her, chafing his hands together and blowing into them to try and produce some form of warmth. Abbie distantly heard him say something to her but it didn’t make much sense.

“Lieutenant! Abbie! Stay awake!”

Ichabod cupped Abbie’s cold face, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks to try and rouse her. He’d been so busy running his mouth, insisting that he’d been in the right about the weather that he didn’t realize that Abbie was beginning to succumb to the frigid temperatures. Springing into action, he began to remove Abbie’s clothing starting with her coat and scarf. She began to shiver further but he knew if he was to save her, he needed to get her as warm as possible. There was only one way, to his knowledge at least, of doing so.

Abbie didn’t think it was possible to feel colder but as she listened to the gale outside, she became aware of Ichabod removing layers of her clothing. She was too tired to fight - to cold - and yet she still managed to mutter her displeasure with the situation at hand. Then - as if by some miracle - she felt warmth pressed against her side. It began to wrap around her as it seeped slowly into her marrow. Her thinking became clearer and soon enough the chattering of her teeth ceased. Finding the energy to open her eyes, she found herself wrapped tightly, skin-to-skin, in an embrace with Ichabod.

Relief flooded him as he caught her gaze. She was still with him. As quickly as the relief hit him, panic set in at the look of confusion on her face. He’d stripped them both down then covered their bodies with their clothing, creating a cocoon of warmth. It was the only way he knew to save her. Still, now that she was indeed out of harm’s way, he feared the wrath of Miss Grace Abigail Mills.

Abbie looked down at their state of undress. She was pressed firmly against his side, her head resting on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her shoulder and waist. He’d lain her legs over his lap so that her entire body was engulfed next to his under their clothing. At least her bra and pants were still on. She still shivered some but managed to give Ichabod a reassuring smile.

“If you had wanted to g-get me naked Crane, all you had to d-do was ask.” Abbie laughed at the look of shock on Ichabod’s face.

“Lieutenant, I would never impugn your honor in such a way!”

“I wish you would.” Abbie said softly, her eyes downcast. Lord only knew if they’d survive this night. It made little sense to her not to say what she’d been feeling for years now. “I wish you would have held me like this before. I wish it didn’t take nearly freezing to death to make it happen. I wish,” she lifted her eyes to his then, holding his gaze, “that you would forget honor for once and just live in the moment and be impulsive. I’ve wished for so long that you would be the man I know you can be; that you would step up and take the lead for once and that you would let me in.”

Ichabod blew out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding during her confession. It puffed out into a cloud, surrounding her shadowed face in an ethereal haze. He’d hoped against hope that Abbie felt as he had but he’d worried he’d never be brave enough to tell her how he felt. Bravery was only part of it though. He knew he was undeserving of her affections, still, he loved her and longed for her in a way he’d never felt for anyone before.  And here she was, confessing her truths to him; a dream he dared not to dream. It didn’t matter to him that Abbie probably said all of this in fear of them not surviving the night. He wasn’t going to let the moment slip by.

“In truth Abbie, I’ve longed to hold you for so long. I’ve wanted to comfort you, to kiss away your tears and soothe your worries. I only feared, no - I knew, I wasn’t worthy of you. I feared you felt affection for me but only that of a friend and partner; I was afraid of your rejection.” Ichabod raised his hand from her waist to cup her cheek. “But oh, Abbie. You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that you cared for me - how long I’ve wanted to come clean and tell you how I’ve felt. I love you, Abbie. I am incomprehensibly in love with you and always will be.”

Tears pooled in Abbie’s eyes and landed on Ichabod’s hand when she turned her head to kiss his palm. She snuggled closer to him, nestling her head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Placing her hand over his bare, slightly hairy chest, Abbie felt the strong, rapid beat beneath it. It matched her own. It took nearly freezing to death to get them to be honest with each other - to get them to tell the truth.

“I love you, Ichabod. I may not have your flowery way with words but if we don’t make it out of here tonight, I’m glad that we both know how we feel.”

For once, Ichabod didn’t offer platitudes of false hope. He simply pulled her closer to him, kissed the top of her head and leaned his chin against it. In this moment, there was peace. They awoke with the sun. The wind had died down and the snow had stopped. They redressed quickly in silence and walked hand in hand toward the mouth of the cave. Abbie continued to walk when she felt Ichabod holding her back. She turned to find him staring at something on the wall outside of the cave.

“Crane?”

“The Sigil of Ameth.”

“The what now?” Abbie moved next to him and looked upon the round drawing with interlocking stars and symbols drawn within.

“The Sigil of Ameth. It’s an ancient Hebrew seal. It means “the seal of the truth of God”.” Ichabod looked down at her, his expression one of wonder and awe. A shiver ran down her spine at the same time an overwhelming sense of calm seemed to fall over them.

“I guess He got tired of waiting for us.”

Ichabod touched the sigil reverently before smiling at Abbie. They waded their way, hand-in-hand, through the fresh snow back towards where they believed the road to be. Their truths had been revealed and the path before them, like the path they were leaving in the newly fallen snow, was theirs to create.


	7. Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The contrast of textures sliding across the skin of his palm made him imagine what it would feel like while Abbie was in it, as she slid down his body. The heat of desire began creeping up his neck and into other parts of his anatomy at the wayward thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Omgerrrd, I thought you had closed the prompts & I didn't send these in! Here are two to choose from; either can be pre-relationship or established relationship: 1) Crane and Abbie somehow learn that one or the other (or both, your choice) is *really* into rough sex, however that discovery is made; 2) Crane accidentally ruins some of Abbie's lingerie in the wash (it get stuck in something else, or something) and he has to come up with some sort of awkward/sexy/funny solution for this"
> 
> I went with option #2 ;-)

This was not good. This was most definitely, not good. He’d promised never to touch the Lieutenant’s unmentionables again and yet here he was, fingering what was remaining of a once beautiful, red lace chemise that had somehow wound up in his laundry pile. _Somehow, indeed_. Ichabod knew exactly how it wound up there.

*          *          *          *

He’d caught a glimpse of it lying crumpled at the foot of Abbie’s bed as he was cleaning the house last week. Her room was the only place he didn’t enter to tidy-up when he set forth to scour the home from top-to-bottom. That was her room, her sacred place and he dare not enter it uninvited – except that one time. The alluring crimson coupled with the mix of transparent silk and delicate lace beckoned him like a siren. He was unable to take his eyes off of it.

Before he was aware of what he was doing, he was sitting on the foot of her bed, holding the lingerie delicately in his hands. The contrast of textures sliding across the skin of his palm made him imagine what it would feel like while Abbie was in it, as she slid down his body. The heat of desire began creeping up his neck and into other parts of his anatomy at the wayward thought. He imagined her sliding from his lap and kneeling before him in nothing but this red scrap of fabric, her chocolate nipples straining against it, begging to be tasted all while she freed him and took that which she desired.

Ichabod wasn’t sure how or when it happened. He’d been fantasizing about Abbie’s soft, full lips surrounding his cock when he realized that the pressure he felt was his own hand, firmly stroking in time to his imaginings. He’d lain back on Abbie’s bed, her chemise in one hand softly snaking across his now exposed abdomen while his other satisfied a deep seated need within him. The lingering vision of her head bobbing up and down, and swirling her tongue over his swollen head was the final straw. With a final pump and twist of his hand, he came.

It wasn’t the release of recent months worth of tension that brought him out of his stupor but the sound of the floorboard creaking. Ichabod sat straight up, crumpling the lacey lingerie, accidentally smearing his creamy essence all over the front of it. _Surely Abbie wasn’t home yet! She wasn’t due until half past six this evening. Even if she had come home early, she would have made herself known. She couldn’t have seen or heard me._ Hastily stuffing himself back into his pants, Ichabod grabbed the offending garment and crept quickly from Abbie’s room.

*          *          *          *

That same, damnable garment now lay atop the washing machine in tatters. How was he to know that it shouldn’t be thrown in the machine like everything else? They’d vowed to be honest with each other but how could he possibly tell her how the entire saga unfolded without not only revealing the shameful act he committed on her own bed, but also admitting the deeper feelings that he held in his heart for her?

“Is there a reason that my favorite red chemise is lying ruined on the washing machine, Crane?”

Ichabod jumped at the sound of Abbie’s warm voice coming from the side of him. He’d been so absorbed in thinking of an explanation to give her that he hadn’t even realized she had been standing there, her arms folded across her chest and her hip leaning against the doorframe, watching him for heaven only knows how long.

“Lieutenant! Please, I can explain. I – that is to say that – I know I said that I wouldn’t touch your unmentionables again but…”

“But you wound up doing a fair bit more than touching them didn’t you?”

It wasn’t the question she asked that made his pulse beat faster or a sheen of sweat to bead across his brow. It was the tone in which she asked. It was in the unmistakable look of lust clearly displayed on her beautiful features.

Abbie pushed herself off of the door frame and stalked slowly over to her prey. Ever since she’d caught Crane stroking his rather impressive cock madly on her bed, she couldn’t remove the image from her mind. She also couldn’t stop her own fingers from exploring her depths at night as she dreamt that it was her slick pussy making him convulse and writhe on her bed and not his own hand. If she was honest with herself, she probably would have continued on as if nothing had changed. Thankfully, catching Crane in the act of destroying her lingerie instead of saving it gave her the courage she needed.

“You know, it’s really rude to take someone’s personally belongings – belongings you swore you wouldn’t touch again mind you – come all over them and then ruin them while you try to hide the evidence.”

“Lieutenant, please forgive me! I don’t know what possessed me. I…”

Abbie reached up and place her fingertips over his lips, silencing him instantly. The sensation of his beard against her fingers – softer than she thought it would be but still rough to the touch – sent a pulse of desire flooding through her body like a tidal wave.

“You broke a promise, Crane” Abbie breathed as she leaned her body further into his. “You willfully went into my room - my personal space - and you proceeded to indulge your base, animalistic needs on my bed and with my lingerie as your token. You did this all in the home that I invited you into to share with me.”

“Abbie, I…”

Abbie pressed her fingers harder onto his lips, her now erect nipples straining through her shirt and pressing against his torso. She raised her other hand to the back of Ichabod’s neck, her fingers brushing along his hairline. She pulled his face down close to hers, their breath mingling in the small space.

“If you wanted to satisfy those base, carnal urges Crane, all you had to do was ask.”

 

 


	8. Dick In A Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie sat up, trying to stop the tears from flowing and the laughter from bubbling up. She tried and failed several times before she finally rose onto her knees in front of him – still chuckling but no longer in jeopardy of laughing herself to death. “How the hell did you manage this?” She wiped tears from her face as she contemplated the least painful way of removing him from his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ichabod gives Abbie the perfect present- His dick in a box. Inspired by the SNL skit lol( I cannot believe I just sent this omg)
> 
> This fic killed me to write! I couldn't think of anything remotely good enough. Should I go funny? Should I go filthy? I decided to semi merge the two.

Abbie was curled up in the fetal position, her hands clasped over her stomach as tears poured down her face. She could scarcely breathe she was laughing so hard. Never in her wildest dreams – and between vivid nightmares of ghosts and demons past,  late night Chinese food induced dreams and her more lurid and kinky imaginings, she was more than familiar with wild dreams – did she ever envision walking in on this scene.

Ichabod sat on the couch with his legs splayed, red faced and stark naked with nothing but a green, square present box with a red bow sitting in his lap. He’d imagined this playing out entirely differently. When Abbie had shown him the collection of Christmas skits from one _Saturday Night Live_ , he’d been appalled by the song that suggested giving one’s genitalia to his significant other as a gift for Christmas - in a box no less. He’d been appalled and Abbie had loved it.

“It’s all in good fun, Crane. Besides,” she’d rubbed he breasts against his side slowly and leaned over whispering against his lips, “I wouldn’t mind a present like that from you.” Abbie looked at him suggestively drawing him into a deep, sensual kiss before heading off to clear their takeout from the coffee table. That had been then. This was now and now, he found his once erect cock stuck uncomfortably inside a box.

“Lieutenant, would you please collect yourself long enough to help me out of this confounded contraption!”

Abbie sat up, trying to stop the tears from flowing and the laughter from bubbling up. She tried and failed several times before she finally rose onto her knees in front of him – still chuckling but no longer in jeopardy of laughing herself to death. “How the hell did you manage this?” She wiped tears from her face as she contemplated the least painful way of removing him from his situation.

“I followed the directions exactly as Mr. Timberlake and Mr. Sandberg suggested. I cut a hole in the box and… inserted myself. I did not however factor in various – angles and mathematics – to the equation or the idea that the inside should have been cushioned with some soft fabric. Subsequently found I could not extricate myself without great discomfort.” Ichabod was mortified. He’d wanted to surprise Abbie with some creative amorous play on her afternoon off. He’d wanted to watch her unwrap him, stroke him, swallow him and then writhe beneath him as he rode her through climax after climax. Instead, he watched her writhe in hysterical pearls of laughter at the whole thing. The more he thought about it, the more he felt someone should take the two gentlemen to task for their ridiculous idea.

After grabbing some lube, a scissor and an ice pack, Abbie was able to slowly and carefully, free Ichabod from his box. He grabbed it and tossed the offending item across the room as if it had forced itself on him and not the other way around. Another fit of laughter bubbled up as Abbie gently placed the icepack wrapped in a dishtowel over his offended penis. To be honest, she was positive Ichabod’s pride was hurt far more than his substantial member.

“I am beyond horrified, Lieutenant.” Ichabod pouted as he held the cooling compress in place. “I fear that I am unfit for the more colorful adventures of courtship in this century. I had thought myself knowledgeable in the more bold acts of lovemaking but apparently, I was wrong.”

Abbie suppressed her smile. She could see how truly distraught Ichabod was over the entire fiasco. While she’d never let him live it down, he got an A for effort and an A+ for trying something different to impress her nonetheless. Pulling his face toward hers, Abbie kissed him deeply, teasing his tongue out of his mouth so that she could suck on it. She ran both of her hands through his short, silky locks pulling him deeper into her kiss. Abbie broke away a bit breathless but with a smile.

“You weren’t wrong at all. You tried something out – to please and tease me – and it didn’t necessarily turn out the way you wanted. That takes game, Crane and I like your game.” Abbie realized that Ichabod’s hands had abandoned keeping the ice pack in place as they found their way beneath her shirt, his thumbs pressing her aching nipples in a circle.

“I am rather fond of your game as well, Abbie.” Ichabod turned toward her slightly rubbing his remarkably recovered erection against her leg. She smiled into his kiss, moving one of her hands further down his body to cup his substantial weight in her hand.

“Hmm… you talk a good game, Crane. Care to put those words into action?”

“It would be my pleasure.”


	9. Holiday Sun and Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie had insisted that they get away this Christmas. She wanted a break from the madness, away from monsters and demons and most importantly, she wanted to get away from Sleepy Hollow. She booked a week-long trip for her and Crane to an all-inclusive resort on the Riviera Maya in Mexico. When she saw the place online, Abbie knew that it would be the perfect spot to relax, unwind and enjoy each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jwab prompt: Yay! So, for the 12 Days of Ichabbie: (semi-)public nudity, socks, and trimming the tree. Work those into something deliciously smutty. And.... GO!

Abbie had insisted that they get away this Christmas. She wanted a break from the madness, away from monsters and demons and most importantly, she wanted to get away from Sleepy Hollow. She booked a week-long trip for her and Crane to an all-inclusive resort on the Riviera Maya in Mexico. When she saw the place online, Abbie knew that it would be the perfect spot to relax, unwind and enjoy each other.

 

The resort was shaped like a setting sun; the main hotel sat with its back against lush mountains and from there, arms jutted out that ended in designer bungalows with their own private section of beach. Each bungalow came with its own housekeeper and personal chef on speed dial and since it was the holidays, they’d even provide you with a Christmas tree and several boxes of decorations for you to trim it with. It was way out of Abbie’s budget but what the hell? It was Christmas, she and Crane had been Witnessing their asses off for four years and she wanted some quality time in the Caribbean with all the accoutrement. She booked it, for once not caring about the cost.

*       *       *       *       *

 

Ichabod sat on the edge of the huge king bed, removing his long socks to change into something far less stifling when he stopped, breathless as he watched Abbie emerge from the bathroom. He’d seen her in her normal work clothes, in yoga gear. He’d seen her in flowery dresses and in jeans. He would never grow tired of seeing her bared to him in all her natural, naked beauty – but Ichabod had never yet seen Abbie in a bikini.

 

The thin strings that held the scrap of fabric barely covering her curvaceous ass were tied into little bows that instantly made Ichabod want to reach out, pull them apart with his teeth, and then feast on every part of skin that it had covered. The color of sunflowers stood out in beautiful contrast to her rich skin. As she stepped through the double doors that led to the beach, the sun hitting the bright color almost seemed to make Abbie luminous. She looked like a goddess, returning to her home in the sea as she waded out into the warm waters. Ichabod forgot all about changing clothes and instead opted for a more natural approach as he stripped himself bare and went to follow her.

 

Abbie walked a mile out into the ocean before it had even hit her waist. She could see people in the distance on their own beaches and some in boats further out and yet, it was as if they didn’t exist. She watched tiny fish dart all around in the crystal clear depths, forgetting everything and just existing in the soft sighs of the waves, the occasional call of a bird and the sand between her toes. The only thing – or in this case person – who could break her reverie was Crane.

 

Ichabod slid up behind her, looping his arms around her waist, dropping open mouth kisses against her neck and grinding his completely free erection against her ass. Abbie smiled to herself as she felt his fingers seek out the ties to her bikini and yank them free. She suspected the ensemble probably wouldn’t survive the first day of the trip and therefore had brought more than one bathing suit with her.

 

Abbie turned in his arms and greedily pulled his lips against hers. When she felt Ichabod’s large hands palm her ass, she wasted no time in wrapping her legs around his narrow hips. They were touching but it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel all of him against and in her. Abbie broke their kiss long enough to remove and toss away her top. Had she not been dripping with the anticipation of feeling Crane move inside her, she may have been more conscientious of littering the ocean with swimwear.

 

Ichabod rocked his hips, building friction between the head of his cock and Abbie’s swollen lips. The sensation of warm water moving back and forth between them only heightened the sensation and when he finally buried himself inside her; it was with a moan of satisfaction – though he couldn’t be sure which one of them it belonged to. It was all so quick; the heat of the midday Caribbean sun and salty ocean water combined with the heat their own thrusting bodies created made everything urgent.

Abbie clung to Ichabod, burying her face in the hollow of his neck as she swore and called out his name when she came. Her legs shook with the force of her aftershocks and it was only due to sheer will and Ichabod’s hands that she didn’t collapse into the water. It was a few moments later when he came with a shout, squeezing her ass so tightly, she was sure she’d have handprints on each cheek for the rest of the week.

 

Something large brushed up against Ichabod’s leg. Between catching only a glimpse of the creature – most likely a large fish – and the exertion of he and Abbie’s activities, his footing gave way and both he and Abbie splashed backwards into the ocean. Abbie screeched about her hair all the while laughing right along with Crane over the entire situation. They hastily retreated back to their bungalow, trying not to give anyone nearby too much of a titillating show of their nudity.

*       *       *       *       *

Abbie handed Crane the star to place atop the tree they had delivered to their room. They stepped back and admired their handiwork. After their earlier tryst, they’d called room service and asked to have a Christmas tree to trim delivered along with a carafe of hot chocolate. Ichabod gathered Abbie in his arms and kissed her slowly and deeply, backing her to the king sized bed until they both collapsed on top of it. There may not have been snow and it may have been eighty degrees instead of twenty, but it still felt like a merry Christmas to both of them.

 


	10. Life in Vignettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together, they headed back to bed, each reveling in the life that they’d never thought they’d have but were overjoyed to have received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rubducked prompt: I'm probably too late but here are some prompts I've been selfishly hoarding: Abbie singing in shower,  
> Abbie getting ready for a date, Crane singing softly to a baby,  
> Crane is a stay at home dad, Putting gas in the car, Eating breakfast in a diner...

Water rushed through the pipes in the walls and mingled with the distant sound of shower water and Abbie singing a soulful new song from one, Adele. Ichabod loved that sound. When he heard Abbie singing, it was as if the very choirs of heaven themselves had lost a member. Her voice drifted through the corridors, down the stairs and seemed to wrap itself around him. When he watched her sing, he could see her relax. When he listened to her sing, he could hear her pour her emotions into every word. When he heard Abbie singing, he knew she was happy - and that was the greatest thing about her voice.

 

Ichabod could listen to her sing all day long, but he knew that that was unlikely to happen. All too soon, the water ceased flowing and with it, the beautiful accompaniment that was Abbie’s voice. He heard her footfalls above his head as she made her way from the bathroom to her bedroom. Abbie was grateful that Crane didn’t mind showering after her but she’d never know that he did it simply so he could enjoy listening to her sing.

*       *       *       *       *

Abbie turned to and fro in her mirror. She turned her head from side-to-side, making sure her hair looked okay. Her hair was fine but the dress had to go. Sighing in frustration, she slid the zipper down and tossed outfit number three onto her bed.

 

_ Why is this so damn hard? It’s just a date, Mills. You’ve been on countless dates before. _

 

As she pulled another dress from her closet and draped it in front of her in the mirror to see if she liked it, she knew better than to answer her own thoughts aloud. Yes, it was a date. Yes she’d been on numerous dates in her life. But this wasn’t just any date. This was a date with Ichabod – and she was nervous as hell.

 

When he had asked her to formally court her as he put it, she’d thought it was charming and agreed. She hadn’t contemplated the implications or how exactly that would make her feel. Sure, they’d gone on many pseudo-dates before; the battleship, Mabbie’s, the farmers market, that one yoga class she’d tricked him into attending could all be considered dates – except of course that he’d been a married man at the time. That and his devotion to his witchy wife was enough to distance each of their joint excursions from being classified as dates. Now, it was different.

 

Abbie was tempted to just throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt but that wouldn’t be date-wear and it wouldn’t match what Ichabod had in plan for the evening: dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant and a stroll along the Hudson. Sighing, Abbie grabbed one of her favorite little black numbers from her closet, stepped into it and zipped it up. She twirled again, still hating the way she looked but was saved from trying on another by the chime of her doorbell. Padding barefoot down the stairs, calling out to Ichabod that she had the door, she stopped short when she pulled it back and saw Ichabod standing there with a bouquet of blushing pink roses.

“What are you doing?” Abbie smiled at him as she took the roses.

 

“We had a date planned this evening did we not, Lieutenant?” Ichabod bowed deeply as he took her hand and kissed it. “I believe it’s customary for the gentleman to pick-up his paramour from her home. Seeing as how we already share a roof, I thought this the more chivalrous approach. You look positively breathtaking. ”

 

Abbie stood on her tippy toes and places a soft kiss on Ichabod’s cheek before turning to put the roses in a vase. She ran back upstairs, grabbed her clutch and threw on a pair of gold and black laced flats. Suddenly, trying to find the perfect outfit didn’t seem nearly as important as getting out of the house and going on her date – with Ichabod Crane.

 

*       *       *       *       *

 

Ichabod couldn’t keep his hands off of her. She was so very tiny and so precious to him; he never wanted to put her down. Lori gazed at her father with heavy lidded, rich hazel eyes but kept fighting the instinct to sleep. They went through this routine almost every night. He knew that Abbie needed as much rest as she could get through the night so that she could work in the day so every time Lori fussed, he jumped out of bed and silenced the monitor before she could wake Abbie.

 

He’d rush to his daughter’s side, change, feed and swaddle her, and then the two of them would have a heart-to-heart about the importance of sleep and how it was their duty to see mommy well rested for the new day. It always ended the same way; Ichabod would wind up singing old lullabies his mother and sang to him to his little princess. Sometimes he’d sit in the rocker; sometimes he’d bounce her on his shoulder; tonight he cradled her in his arms as he stood right in the middle of the room.

 

It wasn’t long before her eyelids began to drift shut and the pacifier that was once snuggly lodged between her pouty lips, fell to the floor with a soft thud. With a final kiss on her brow, he placed the sleeping baby back in her crib, grabbing a new pacifier to replace the fallen one and turned to leave finding Abbie standing there smiling with her hand extended for him to clasp onto. Together, they headed back to bed, each reveling in the life that they’d never thought they’d have but were overjoyed to have received.  

 


	11. Christmas Quickie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been five days, five whole days, since they’d had sex. That was four more days than they had ever gone without touching and tasting each other since they had started dating five years before. Not that Ichabod hadn’t tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: spikeghost asked:  
> alright so, christmas ichabbie smut prompt, AU, at the inlaws' trying to be quiet and sneaky

They didn’t have long. He was supposed to be searching for the extra Christmas lights that his father Philip kept in the attic. She was supposed to be grabbing the bags of wrapping paper, bows and bags that her mother-in-law Anna had stashed in the second floor hall closet. Neither Abbie nor Ichabod made it to their destinations. 

 

*      *      *      *

 

It had been five days,  _ five whole days, _ since they’d had sex. That was four more days than they had ever gone without touching and tasting each other since they had started dating five years before. Not that Ichabod hadn’t tried. The first night at his parents, he’d spooned up behind Abbie, sliding his hand beneath her tank top to fondle her breasts and gently tug at her nipple. Though she pressed her bountiful ass against his swollen cock, she had tugged his hand away.

 

“We can’t Crane.”

 

“Why ever not?” Ichabod tried a different tactic, rolling his hips forward into her ass and sliding his hand towards the waist of her boy shorts. He’d barely gotten his fingertips past the band before Abbie stopped him and turned to face him.

 

“Because we’re in your parent’s house, that’s why! We’re right next door and it isn’t like either of us are particularly quiet when we’re getting it on.” It wasn’t like she didn’t want to. Had she’d allowed him, he would have felt how desperately wet she was for him. She just knew that once they got started, there was no controlling their passion and though she knew Philip and Anna Crane loved her, she had a feeling that their old school English sensibilities would be blasphemed hearing her have sex with their son.

 

Crane huffed but acquiesced - at least he appeared to. He understood where his beautiful bride was coming from. The headboard of the bed in what used to be his bedroom - now the guest room, was firmly against the wall adjacent to his parent’s own headboard and they were known to get loud and acrobatic in their lovemaking. Still, not being able to lose himself inside Abbie over and over was enough to drive him mad. He wouldn’t make it two full weeks without her and had no intention of it getting that far. He had a plan.

 

Ichabod knew that for all her posturing and pretending at being demure, Abbie was in as dire straights as he was. If he teased her enough, she would come to him. So for five days, he grabbed her ass when his parents weren’t looking. He ran the pad of his thumb over her clit under the dinner table. He’d grind up behind her and whisper in her ear what he wanted to do to her but hide it as a quick peck on the cheek when either of his parents came into the room. He basically drove her mad.

 

*       *      *      *

 

Abbie felt like she was going to explode. Ichabod had been touching and teasing her for days and it had done nothing to decrease her sex drive. If anything, it had revved it into overdrive. She wanted him. She  _ needed _ him, but the thought of his parents being in the same house while Ichabod was thrusting one of his glorious appendages between her legs freaked her out. Still, she was at her breaking point. She wouldn’t make it two whole holiday weeks without, even if she was the one who had made the stupid rule to begin with.

  
When Abbie saw Ichabod headed toward the attic, she didn’t even think as she grabbed his hand, pushed him into the bathroom and shut the door. She was on him in a second, unbuckling his belt and ridding him of his pants in a flash. His mouth was on hers as he pushed her skirt and tights over her hips and down to her ankles for her to step out of. Ichabod lifted her onto the marble vanity, stepped between her legs and immediately buried himself balls deep inside of his wife.

 

Abbie wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and used her heels to spur him to move deeper and faster. The faster and harder he went, the louder he got. Abbie silenced him with a kiss, whimpering as she felt her muscles begin to clench and her legs start to quiver. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, hoping that her moans would be stifled there as she came - and came hard. Ichabod spiraled behind her, his own orgasm causing him to grip Abbie’s hips hard enough to bruise as he filled her with his cum. 

 

Abbie and Ichabod panted as they placed soft kissed on each other’s lips. They took a moment to gather themselves and calm their breathing. They couldn’t have been in the bathroom any longer than ten minutes but both Philip and Anna were waiting for them. Checking the hall to make sure no one was there, they left the bathroom, giving each other one last kiss before heading off to finish each of their tasks knowing full well that that wouldn’t be their last quickie of their holiday vacation. 


	12. On the Fringes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tree glowed red at his outburst, opening its wide mouth to let him enter. The image of Abbie flickered before him with a smile that seemed to glow brighter than the energy radiating from the tree itself.
> 
> “I told you to use your heart, Ichabod.” Faux Abbie stepped further into the tree, still smiling at him. “Now, come find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from art-and-other-rhythms: Ichabbie prompt if still open: I don't know if you've ever seen Fringe, but at one point one half of OTP imagines/hallucinates the other half of OTP, "I'm just a voice in your head" kind of thing. Do for Ichabbie: Crane imagines/hallucinates Abbie while she's still in Hades. She can guide him, needle him, etc. :) :) :) <3 <3 <3

The first time it happened, Ichabod thought he had gone mad. Jenny had just left the Archives to talk to one of her contacts about some rare books and left him alone in his grief. They’d been pouring over anything and everything they could find about The Hidden One, Pandora and what exactly that tree was. Ichabod had just pulled another book from the growing stack of books next to him when he heard her voice behind him.

“Crane, what the hell are you doing? You know you aren’t looking in the right place.”

Ichabod bolted out of his chair, spinning and knocking over tomes – some as old as he – when he saw _her._ Abbie leaned her hip against the table that still held her laptop. She regarded him with an easy smile and her arms folded over her chest.

“You don’t really think the answer to how to find me is in those books do you?”

“Abbie!” Ichabod rushed over to where she stood but as he reached her, she had disappeared. Ichabod turned and turned in circles, trying to will her presence back into the room. When it was obvious that the vision he saw was just that, a figment of his imagination, it broke him anew and he fell where he stood, sobbing and feeling the loss of her all over again.

*          *          *          *

The second time, Ichabod had been sleeping on the couch. He hadn’t slept in his bed since she’d sacrificed herself to save them all. Something about sleeping in a bed made him feel like he wasn’t working hard enough so he’d taken up residence on the couch, sleeping only once his body forced him to.

Ichabod dreamt she was sitting above his head on the arm rest. Abbie brushed a stray lock of hair away from his eyes and frowned down at him.

“Why haven’t you come for me yet, Crane?”

“Abbie, I – I’ve been searching for weeks. Your sister and I both have –and Joe as well.” Ichabod sat up and turned to her tentatively reaching out a hand to check and see if she was real. His hand hit air, though the vision of Abbie remained. “You aren’t real?”

“I am real. I’m real to you. I’m here,” Abbie said pointing to Ichabod’s head, “and here” she finished by pointing to his heart.

Ichabod swallowed audibly, trying desperately to keep the tears that threatened to reemerge from falling again. When he spoke again, his voice cracked and he couldn’t help the sob that followed, ushering in the tears he had fought against. “I miss you, Lieutenant. I miss you more than words could possibly convey.”

“Then come find me, Ichabod.”

“I’ve looked everywhere…”

“No you haven’t!” Abbie’s voice rose. It was the closest she’d ever come to yelling at him and it drew Ichabod up short. “You aren’t looking where you should. Use that damn eidetic memory of yours and _think_ , Crane. Use your heart.”

When Ichabod awoke, it was with a start that caused him to turn and look to see if her specter remained. It hadn’t. He still felt her presence on the fringes of his consciousness, but she was gone. Seeing Abbie like this – a virtual ghost of his own making – it ripped him apart but it also made him want to work harder. He would find her. He knew he would.

*          *          *          *

The third time Abbie appeared to him, Ichabod had returned to the tree. _Use your heart_ she’d told him. His heart had led him there. It had led him to the very spot where he’d lost her. He kneeled before the tree, touching the ground reverently, imagining that he could feel here through the ground. When she spoke, her voice came from behind him. He didn’t stiffen in tension or turn this time. He just allowed her – this faux Abbie – to fill his senses.

“You’re finally starting to get it, Crane.”

“The only thing I am getting, Lieutenant, is frustrated.” Ichabod stood and turned to face her then. How he wished she were real. How he longed to crush her in his embrace and tell her all of the things he’d never had the courage to. But he couldn’t do that. She wasn’t Abbie. She wasn’t _real_. “Why do you keep appearing? Why have you been pestering me and keeping me away from finding the real Abbie? Are you an agent of Pandora’s?”

Faux Abbie’s face filled with sorrow and heartache. It was an image, Ichabod was sure was reflected on his own countenance. She walked closer to him then, her hand hovering just about his heart. When he closed his eyes, he imagined that he could smell her. Abbie always smelled like a combination of Shea and jasmine. It was an intoxicating mix that Ichabod missed almost as the woman who wore the scents.

“I keep appearing because you need me. I’m here because there’s a part of you that knows where to look and how to find me but won’t admit it.” She raised her eyes – the same warm brown eyes he’d gazed in for several years – and looked at him then with a combination of sorrow, anger and resignation. “All you have to do is say it, Ichabod. Say it and you’ll find me.”

Faux Abbie moved then and walked toward the tree. She may not have been real. She may not have been his Abbie, but she was all he had left. Ichabod turned to stop her, reaching out to grab her but only touching the gnarled tree.

“Abbie, wait! Please don’t leave me again! I love you!”

The tree glowed red at his outburst, opening its wide mouth to let him enter. The image of Abbie flickered before him with a smile that seemed to glow brighter than the energy radiating from the tree itself.

“I told you to use your heart, Ichabod.” Faux Abbie stepped further into the tree, still smiling at him. “Now, come find me.”

When she disappeared again, Ichabod no longer worried that he’d never see her again. He knew then how to find and save Abbie. He knew his heart would lead him to her. He knew his love for her was the answer and had been all along.


	13. Take A Hint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny looked over at a clearly confused Ichabod and shook her head. Even as deep as his love ran for Abbie - and he was in love with her sister, of that she had no doubt - he’d never consider telling her how he felt as something Abbie would really want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> darlablovesichabbie asked:  
> I sent a prompt to you, here's the second one. Crane tries to figure out what gift Abbie desires this year. He is unsuccessful seeking help from Jenny and Joe. Instead of just telling him they tease Crane about what she really wants.
> 
> The holiday's were busier than usual, I've been sick and I've also had little to no motivation to write. However, I promised to finish these fics and I will damnit!

“I fear that I am at a loss.” Ichabod’s frown deepened as he scrolled further down the Amazon page he’d brought up on the screen. He’d been scouring shop windows, the internet and the discarded magazines that lay on their coffee table to find Abbie the perfect Christmas present.  Even now, as his eyes darted down the page, scanning the results of his “gifts for women” search - and finding some things that made his eyes go wide and his skin to flush with embarrassment - nothing jumped out at him as being something that she would like. 

 

“What’s up, Crane?” Joe leaned over his shoulder and glanced at the screen. He smiled as he took in the list of “gifts for her” on the screen. “Having a hard time figuring out what to get Abbie for Christmas?”

 

“It has been a most stressful task.” Ichabod pushed the computer away from him with a huff and threw his hands in the air. “She has such wide and varied tastes that it is nearly impossible to pick an appropriate gift. And what’s worse, if she wants something, she goes and buys it. She leaves me nothing to possibly give her for the holidays.”

 

Jenny snickered from her corner of the Archives, lifting her head and sharing a knowing smile with Joe. They’d been watching Ichabod pussyfoot around his growing love for Abbie for what seemed like years.  While Abbie didn’t necessarily make it easy on him, dodging his veiled declarations as much as she dodged her own deeper feelings for him, it was becoming harder and harder for Jenny and Joe to watch two of the people they cared about suffer unnecessarily. 

 

They had spoken about the lack of development in the “Ichabbie” front as they called them, on more than one occasion. Neither was willing to push Ichabod to confess his feelings simply because they couldn’t read how Abbie would react. Jenny swore to never approach Abbie about it ever again after trying previously and only getting vague answers, the cold shoulder or the occasional look that meant  _ I will end you _ . Still, they were determined to meddle somehow. If ancient tablets and the Bible itself foretold that those two would find each other, then it only made sense that Jenny and Joe help make that happen. 

 

“You know what, Crane? I think I remember Abbie saying there was something she was interested in.” Jenny closed her book and leaned back in her chair, preparing to do her best to plant just the right seed in Ichabod’s over analytical brain.

 

“Oh! Please enlighten me Miss Jenny. Unless of course it was something you were planning on buying for her.”

 

“Oh no, Crane. This is definitely something I can’t get her but I think it’d be perfect coming from you.”

Joe caught Jenny’s eye and immediately began to play along. “Oh, yeah! I remember what you’re talking about. I can’t remember the name though…”

 

“Me either. It was something English though, and with a really weird name.”

 

Ichabod looked back and forth between his two friends - more like family at this point - and was as intrigued as he was perplexed by this item that Abbie wanted and he’d never heard of. “Is it a book or a device of some kind? Perhaps it’s that Doctor Who phone booth contraption? The Lieutenant has frequently commented on our similarities though I can’t see them. He’s an old insufferable know-it-all.”

 

Joe coughed then pat him on the back to hide his bark of laughter. “No. You two are nothing alike.”

 

“You know, I don’t think that was it either.” Jenny stood and began to pace, trying to hold her smile at bay. “It was something super old…”

 

“Yeah, it had to have been what, two hundred or so years old?” Joe walked over to Jenny and winked at her. He probably shouldn’t be enjoying teasing Ichabod this much but he was sitting there with this earnest and eager look on his face. They could probably shout  _ It’s you, you tall, British fruit loop! _ in his face and he still wouldn’t pick up on the message.

 

“I think it was. And pretty big too. If only we could remember exactly what it is that Abbie really wants. What she’s wanted, and needed for a few years now.” Jenny looked over at a clearly confused Ichabod and shook her head. Even as deep as his love ran for Abbie - and he was in love with her sister, of that she had no doubt - he’d never consider telling her how he felt as something Abbie would really want.

 

“While I appreciate your help,” Ichabod stood and walked towards the door, “perhaps it would be best if I went with something simple as her gift instead of relying upon your incomplete memory of what it is she desires. A new leather coat perhaps.”

  
Ichabod left the Archives in a huff leaving Jenny and Joe in a laughing heap. One of these days, he’d take a hint. Apparently, today wasn’t that day. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I do not own Sleepy Hollow or any of the characters therein.


End file.
